Angels
by elleisforlovee
Summary: "She remembered it well, the shaking in her abdomen as she screamed and begged for help. She felt him then, stroking her hair as he held onto her hand. He was there then just as she was here now. They had made vows referencing times like these." On a day when he needs her most, Sybil comes to Tom for the last time. *S3 SPOILERS*


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. If I did, Sybil would be alive and JBF and Allen Leech would be dating (am I the only one that wants this? Dear god, they would be perfect together...).

**A/N: **I don't know where this came from. Actually, I do. I recently re-read Mitch Albom's "For One More Day" after recommending it to a friend. If you've read the story, the basic undertone of this fic may seem similar. I never wanted to pay tribute to the post 3x05 Downton world in fanfiction especially because fanfiction gives me the opportunity to ignore all of that bull. But here I was, awake at 5am the other morning and feeling like I just *had* to get all of this out.

The title of the fic is "Angels", taken from The XX song by the same name. I highly recommend you listen to it while reading.

I will be update "On The Other Side" when my beta returns the latest chapter to me. Sorry that has been so slow moving! I'm actually pretty far ahead with the writing, I just haven't had time to post with my semester ending and coming home for the Holidays. Thank you all for being patient and especially to those of you who have contacted me on tumblr, twitter, and via PM asking for an update. It really means a lot!

Enjoy!

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He remembered the first time he saw her. It was in this same house and they were both breaking the rules, him being inside and she in her father's library. He was downstairs then, both literally and figuratively, but he remembered, sitting on the bed they used to share on visits, how beautiful she looked then and how beautiful he imagined she would still look today. Beautiful, just always beautiful and kind and passionate and warm. A tear rolled down his cheek reminding him of the locked door he sat behind and the way his shoulders were slumped over, leaning into the end table with its threatening contents.

"Tom?"

He wiped at his eyes, realizing he had been caught. The voice was familiar, his favorite sound, he thought, but she was far away, coming to him as if through a receiver. He turned, watching her fade in. Just as quickly as she was taken away from him, she reappeared, in white and muted grey, her hair still short and her eyes blue as ever. They were piercing, watered over much in the way his had been and still were since her departure. He wondered if she spent her days crying the way you wonder about a friend taking a trip for Holiday. It was easy for him to do, his days crowded with managing the estate, caring for their now six year old daughter, and managing the pain of a world where he was forced to go at it all alone.

Another tear and then her voice again, "Tom," she whispered, pressing a hand to his cheek. She was cold but it was the actual touch that frightened him. Instinctively though, he melted into her, closing his eyes as he remembered what it was like to be touched like this, by someone you loved who dared to love you back just as much. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that if he opened them she'd be gone or the tears he was still crying would cloud him out of his vision. She'd never be completely gone though, and he reminded himself of this as she nestled into his side, sitting with him on the bed now.

"You know this isn't fair," she said, wiping at his cheeks. She was crying now too, but she imagined what Tom was feeling was much worse. She remembered it well, the shaking in her abdomen as she screamed and begged for help. She felt him then, stroking her hair as he held onto her hand. He was there then just as she was here now. They had made vows referencing times like these. Sybil smiled, remembering how much she wanted him them and in parallel how many times since then that want had turned to a need. For the past six years, it was a desperate need, one that Tom felt while Sybil wished she could. Sitting on their old bed, Sybil felt everything for her husband. He was still her husband, her best friend, her soulmate. She'd be gone again soon and this would all still be true. Time, if anything, had only deepened the way he loved her. If only she were here like this always to return the favor, Tom thought.

"I think that's supposed to be my line…"

"Are you angry with me?"

"I'm lonely, Syb," he whispered, holding her hands in his lap now as he faced her. "It was always you and me against the world and now it's just me and the world hasn't been so kind. I'm miserable without you, love. This isn't my home and you're gone and-"

"I never wanted it this way," she reminded him. "I wanted to grow old with you, to have more babies with you, to go back to Ireland with you…"

"You wanted to go back to Ireland?" Tom brightened. He was still crying and she was still cyring, but their tears had subsided to a slow meander. He kissed her hands, still clasped within his. Dear god she was cold. He tried to warm her up to no avail.

Sybil only smiled, understanding what he was trying to do and loving the determination behind his blank stare as he failed. Tom rarely failed with her, and only once, just a few days before she was gone, did she ever remember being upset with him. He was her rock, her better half, her savior. He was the boy she always knew she deserved but was too afraid to seize. He was here and she was gone and the thought choked her up, causing her to nod instead of answer him with a simple, "Yes."

"I'm going to die here, I can't," he choked up too, watching a small tear poke out of the corner of her eye and stroll down her cheek. He focused on it, wanting to kiss it away. "I can't leave you here."

"You mean the way I left you?"

"Maybe the better question is: are you angry with yourself?" It scared him, hearing how guilty she sounded. He didn't need her words to confirm what he already knew, that she was just as angry and mad at the world as he was. He'd invite them anyway.

Sybil nodded, she wanted to kiss him, but knew better. "I feel awful Tom. I'm missing so much. Our daughter doesn't even know who I am. And my love, you're so far away. I ache-"

"I'm here," he reassured, pulling her small body into his lap. She warmed up, if only for a minute. Her body heat came like a flash, taking the place of the heartbeat he dreamed of hearing as he pressed his head into her chest. They were a mess of limbs, partly in shadow with the rest of them illuminated by the fire crackling in it's hearth at the end of the bed. Neither of them knew who was comforting who, both of them so attached that they feared the repose as they pulled away. But eventually they did, Sybil growing much colder than she was before. Tom's heart dropped, watching the color drain from her face. She was still beautiful though. Christ, was she beautiful.

Sybil reminded herself that she was here to comfort him. She came to bring him out of this, to remind him of what he was working for, and all he had left to do. Just like the second journalism position he received in Dublin, the one that he hated and dreaded getting up early to go to, he did it for her and the unborn child then resting safely in her womb. Tom thought of her downstairs with her mother's curly black locks and his freckled skin. She was probably playing with her nanny, begging the young woman to take her into her grandfather's library so she could break the same rules her mother once had. Of course she'd never know of those days, but Tom would tell her. He had to now. Sybil was here to make sure of it.

"She's beautiful," Sybil whispered, as if reading his mind. "She looks just like you."

"No, she looks just like you," Tom said, almost hating the fact. His daughter's name and beauty weren't the only things that reminded him of her mother. Every movement and speech pattern was laced with Sybil, causing him to smile and then choke back tears as he ached for her in the silence that so often settled around him watching his daughter grow up.

Her hand was on his cheek again, this time stroking at his skin. "You've done a great job. She's polite and well behaved and every bit as bold as her father," Sybil said with a laugh.

Tom joined her, but only briefly. Others had joked about how Sybbie was clearly his daughter. He sometimes wondered if Sybil hated him for it, for her irish accent and the way he allowed her to wear her hair down instead of in plaits the way Mary and Edith had so passively suggested. He had his answer now and in an instant, he wished he didn't. For some reason it would have been easier if Sybil had disapproved. It would have also been easier if she were here to argue with him on how to properly raise their daughter. "Thank you."

"I know you tell her about me...you have to keep doing that, Tom."

"I'm tired, Syb-"

"She needs you." His wife's words were soft sounding but harsh in weight. It was not a request or a favor. It was something she was insisting that he do, for her, and for the life of their daughter. "You have to promise me, Tom."

"I can't do that. It's so hard, Syb. I'm in so much pain. I don't sleep, I don't eat. I get up every morning and I have to remind myself that you're not here. I'm a fraction of the man I used to be, the man I was for you…" He was crying again, curling into his wife's frame as she held onto him. He kissed her shoulder, then her face, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. When he pulled away, her eyes were cold, as if warning him not to do it again. If life had taught him anything it was to not take anything for granted. Tom blinked, fearing he had done just that as he reminded himself that this was only temporary and that soon, she'd be gone again.

"You waited for me for six years, Tom. And now I just need you to wait a few more."

"A few?," he asked, somewhat taken aback by the small arbitrary figure.

"It gets easier, darling. And you're strong...we'll be together soon," she added. "And when it's your time-"

"I'll be buried next to you, in the cemetery behind the village church. Sybbie and I, both."

"That's not a Catholic cemetary, Tom," she reminded.

He smiled, kissing her cheek. "I know," he mumbled into her skin, taking her scent in. "But that's where you are, so that's where I shall be."

"When it's time, love." She inhaled sharply, hating that she still needed air to push her through all of this. The idea was ironic and cruel. "You're brave," she whispered, her head now nuzzled into his neck. They were both unsure of when it happened, but he was definitely holding her now. He didn't mind, either. He'd give a thousand yesterdays to spend the rest of his life just like this.

"I wish I was. I feel like a coward now, you finding me like this."

"You're allowed to be scared and you're allowed to be vulnerable. You're just not allowed to give up."

"I see that now...does this mean you'll come to me every time I try this?"

Sybil pulled away from him, her eyes darting to the bottles on the end table. "Please don't kid, Tom. This won't happen again, I know you, and I know you're better than this. But please don't think that doesn't mean I'm not always here because I am. I watch you and her and I get so jealous but so proud, too. I know that for some reason I'll never understand that this was how it was supposed to be and that I fall in love with you more and more each day when I watch how wonderful you are with her and how lovely she's become."

"I feel you," he whispered, crying again. His throat was tight, threatening to spill out the tears that were collecting in his eyes. He blinked them away, only causing them to stream down his cheeks. "I miss you," he finished.

"I miss you too, darling."

"And I love you," he whispered, causing them both to cry.

Sybil gave in now, doing her best to laugh through the tears. "I love you always, Tom. But I really must go."

She was at the door now, holding the bottle of pills and the whiskey that had just previously resided in a makeshift offering on the altar that was once their bedside table. She smiled, closing her eyes to remember him here, wanting and needing her the way he always had. A tear rolled down her cheek, forcing Sybil to smile through it as she disappeared out the door. It was the hardest part, watching her go. He was certain he'd never see her again, something he had said once before on a day much like today, six years ago. But this was it. She was really gone now, a rush of cold air coming in from the window on the other side of the room as he heard the laugh of a small child coming at him from down the hall.

Tom stood up to approach the door but was stopped as Sybbie appeared, her tiny hands grasping the doorknob her mother had just previously unlocked. "Dhaidí?**"**

He turned back, straightening out the bed where he and her mother were just sitting together. He pushed the end-table back to its original position against the wall, admiring its lack of contents and the way nothing but his bible rested inside the draw below.

"Dinner time?"

"I want to show you my dance first, Dhaid," she said, grabbing his hand to pull him toward the door. Tom smiled, happily obliging as his daughter guided them both downstairs. He felt her then, standing at the top of the stairs as he watched Tom pick up Sybbie and throw her over his shoulder. He imagined if she were here, she'd press a hand to her lips to suppress the delighted smile that would soon turn into a laugh as she watched her daughter dance and her husband watch with only the most enthused of smirks etched across his face. If she wasn't at the top of the stairs she was in the kitchen as Tom made Sybbie breakfast every Sunday morning after church or on Friday afternoons when he got off of work and he took Sybbie into London to see a picture show. She was there then too. She would never be too far.

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Reviews would be greatly appreciated!

x. Elle


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